Sticks and Stones
by Colleentj
Summary: "Hylians first." Ganondorf contemplates how the color of his skin affects him in a Hylian society. Drabble. Pre-OoT.


**This is just a piece of drabble and is not meant to be taken _too_ seriously. Thanks.**

**STICKS AND STONES  
ColleenTJ**

Among the peasants, the impoverished, the beggars, the starving, the elderly, the ill, the helpless, and the handicapped, stood a tall, dark figure in a cloak. He stood three feet above the tallest of the rest. He was easily intimidating. His aura was one of power and intensity. He could terrify anybody that crossed his path.

And yet he didn't.

Because, according to them, he was still below them. It was something as simple as the color of his skin. He was a Gerudo, and that was an easy indication of thievery, of treachery, of dishonesty. Even if he had been charitable, kind, and forgiving, he would still be a thief and a liar.

The color of his skin said so.

Didn't it?  
This strange group was gathered in a food line in the middle of Castle Town. There was a young woman at the forefront of the line, filling tin cups with a warm, lumpy stew and handing it out to the needy. She did this every night. Those who could not be fed could get at least one meal a day from her.

It was difficult to get to the front of the line when strangers kept cutting in front of him. Every time he thought he was getting close, two or three Hylians would step before him and push him farther back in line. And yet he refused to complain.

He really was hungry, though. He hadn't eaten a decent meal in days, now. The royal family did not allow him to dine with them. Neither did the royal guards, or the servants. He had been dismissed from every tavern he entered. He had been running low on options when, a few weeks ago, he discovered the food line.

As the Royal Ambassador to the King, Ganondorf would have been expected to be pampered. It would be likely that he would be treated as well as, if not better than, the royal family itself. He was in a place of high esteem, wasn't he?

Instead, he was refused any type of service. Even the chambermaids, the gardener, the _stable boy _looked down upon him.

After only a few weeks in Castle Town, he began to feel sickly. His skin took on a greenish hue. He did his best to keep healthy and strong, but the longer he was around the Hylian population, the more they grew to dislike him.

They hated his kind.

Did that really mean they needed to hate _him?_

And so now he stood out in cold November air, wrapped in a heavy cloak as he tried not to freeze. After nearly forty minutes of waiting, his turn came at the front of the line.

_Finally._

He stretched out a shaking limb, unable to wait any longer for that night's meal. Just as he was about to receive it, he was pushed to the side as an old beggar came through.

"Hylians first," the beggar said, and stretched out his tin cup. Ganondorf sighed, figuring it was just another racist idiot. He tried to regain his place in line, but another Hylian shoved him aside.

"Know your place, Gerudo," the next man hissed. Ganondorf tried again to approach the counter, but a woman stepped in his way to prevent it.

"You don't belong here," she claimed, received her soup for the night, and left. Ganondorf could feel an angry fire kindling within him, and he tried his best to suppress it.

_**Control**_**,** he reminded himself. _**Control is key.**_

The line grew thick and he found himself at the end of the line once more. The sun was vanishing quickly and the air only continued to grow colder. This wasn't the first time that Ganondorf had had difficulty getting to the front of the line. More frustrating, however, was that it wasn't the last, either.

He was used to being pushed around. He hated it, but at least he had come to expect it.

It helped him to keep under control. More importantly, he was able to direct how he used his energy. Energy was important. It had to be saved for big things.

As time passed, the crowd dispersed. The waiting line for food grew shorter and shorter until Ganondorf was the last one left.

He approached the counter wearily and stretched out his hand once more. The tin cup shook in his grasp.

The woman didn't bother to look up. She only reached her ladle into the soup pot to retrieve some soup for her last customer. She stopped mid-scoop, however, as she realized who stood before her.

A Gerudo.

"We're all out," she said dryly, but her face betrayed her. Ganon was tall enough to peer over the rim of the pot. Although there wasn't much left, there was still enough to scrape together a decent night's meal.

He could have protested.

He could have lashed out on her then and there. He could have convinced her of his starvation, of his desperation. He could have shown her the weight that he had lost over the past few weeks. He could have displayed his sickly green skin, caused by weariness and hunger. He could have done all of those things. He was tall. He was terrifying.

Yes, Ganondorf could have gotten that meal with ease.

And yet he didn't.

_**Control. Control is key.**_

"I am sorry to have bothered you," he said gruffly, and dragged himself away.

_**They're terrible. All of them, terrible. They starve me half to death and then complain that I'm hungry. Don't they realize what they're doing? Even the servants will not permit me to eat with them because they are afraid I will drag them down.**_

_**If only they knew what I was capable of…**_

He turned back to face the town one more time.

_**They punish me for being who I am when they are the ones that have caused this tension. And still I stand and let it happen…**_

_**…They have no idea what is coming.**_

He turned his gaze toward the Temple of Time. All he needed was a way to get beyond that wretched Door of Time. Gaining the Triforce was all it would take to get his revenge on these awful Hylians. Then there would be no protest. He would obliterate them all.

"They can do everything they want to hurt me," Ganondorf muttered, "but in the end, they will be the ones who hurt."

**Review? :) **


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